Scourge
by pretty in green
Summary: The problem with misery is that it bleeds through all veils of normality.
1. One for Sorrow

**A/N: **_Unlike my other stories, this one is complete and will be updated daily. It is around ten chapters long. I also can't recall the inspiration for this. It just sort of...came to me.

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_**~+~One for Sorrow~+~**_

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It had started late into the night.

When the rest of the palace was soundly asleep in their warm, beautifully furnished bedrooms in blankets and sheets of silk and expensive cotton, the Lady Ursa found that tonight would be a night of absolutely no rest.

The cold sweat had started first. Ursa found herself stripping off the thick blankets that were covering her and rolling them into a sloppy pile at the foot of her bed, leaving only the thin sheets covering her. Her long night gown was hitched up past her knees and rolled up past her elbows so that the cool air drifting in through the windows could cool her heated skin. She flipped her pillow over so that the cold side of the pillow was facing up. She pressed her flushed face against the cool fabric and kept repeating the process whenever the pillow got much too warm. Her long hair was piled up on the top of her head so that her neck, slick with sweat, could get a bit of relief.

Then the stirring began. At first she thought that is was normal. After all, her maids and friends that had experience in carrying children told her that stirring was normal. And either way, she was familiar with the feeling of her child moving around inside of her. Normally, she would smile softly and place a hand gently on her stomach, synchronizing herself with every movement that the baby made. But as the night wore on, the kicks started to get sharper, the stirring was not ceasing, and her abdomen was beginning to ache. The movement wasn't soothing. It was frantic, desperate, quick, and relentless. The pressure was agonizing. No, something was definitely wrong.

The heat was beginning to be too much. The one window that was open was not allowing in enough of a breeze. It seemed that her bed sheets were radiating heat so as to ensure that she would never find relief from her discomfort. She placed the back of her hand against her forehead and felt the droplets of sweat collect on the back of her hand. Her lips were cracked and dried, her throat was parched, she was panting with fever, and the stirring was getting worse.

Something was really, really wrong.

The woman thought that perhaps if she opened all of the windows, the heat would dissipate. She wasn't concerned with the possibility of catching a cold or of getting the child sick by accident. At this point, she just needed enough air to breathe in this stuffy furnace that had become her room. She pressed her hands flush against the soft mattress below her and propped herself against the headboard of her bed. She breathed in and out slowly and was about to swing her legs over the side to stand up.

But before her foot touched the wooden floors of the bedroom, the stirring became violent.

Ursa felt the sharp pain vibrate through her entire lower body and couldn't hold back the shriek that escaped her lips. This was a foreign feeling. The pains of childbearing were supposed to be a lot lower than where this pain was coming from. She expected there to be pushing down lower, signaling the attempts of the child trying to push its way out. But this…it felt like the pain was inside of her. As if the child was trying to push its way out of her stomach rather than down lower. As if it was in danger and it was looking for any way at all to escape.

The woman was confused. Shouldn't there have been water? Or at least sheets soaked in some way? The Lady was panting and trying to lessen the pain shooting across her abdomen as she grabbed the edge of her expensive sheets. Biting her lip again as the pain continued, she pulled the sheets aside to assess whether it was time—whether this was really it. She shifted to the side slightly so as to get a view of the sheets underneath her.

Ursa choked out a scream and a sob. Disgust crossed her features.

Blood. Bright, red blood.

Something was going terribly wrong.

Another intense wave of pain and pressure was felt on her pelvis and the woman cried out again, this time louder and sharper. It took only seconds for someone to hear her cries of distress. Ursa's lady in waiting and her midwife came barreling in through the room, their skirts and dressed picked up from the bottom as if they had been running through the halls. They saw the Fire Nation woman bent over and clutching her stomach, whimpering, crying, and begging for help. The sheets were pulled aside to display the crimson stained blankets. Another sharp cry was heard and Ursa threw her head back in agony.

Their reactions were instantaneous.

The lady in waiting called back to the young maids and asked them to bring a tub of warm water and as many towels as they could find. The midwife rushed over to the Fire Princess and tried to assess the situation. She leaned the Fire Princess back against the headboard and piled as many pillows, quilts, and blankets as she could. As soon as the woman was leaned comfortable against the pillows, the midwife lifted the nightgown until it was past her hips.

The midwife gasped. "They're only seconds apart!"

The lady in waiting was busy rushing in the girls carrying the water and the towels. Her features screwed into that of frantic worry. "How can that be? That would mean that she's—"

"—three months early. I know," the midwife called back. "Quick bring the towels, hurry!"

They all stayed with her for the painstakingly long night that was presented to them. The pains and contractions were coming relentlessly and it seemed as though this labor was far more painful and taking innumerable amounts of energy out of the poor young woman. The tears kept coming and she kept whimpering to all of her maids that she felt like she was dying. They knew that this was the delirium that came whenever someone was in the midst of child birth pain. But somehow, it seemed as if something was off about the crying, sobbing, and shrieking.

It was with one final heave that Ursa had felt relief. The stirring, kicking, and sharp pains had stopped. The pressure had stopped and she felt terribly empty. She collapsed back into the pillows and started gasping for breath. The sweat on her brow made her hair stick to her forehead and her entire body was hot. The throbbing and soreness was already taking over her and she immediately started to feel the after birth fatigue. She longed for the cries of her baby to distract her. She longed to feel it cuddled up in her arms so that she could focus not on the soreness, but on its pink, rosebud face. She wanted to see her child. But…

…the room was strangely silent.

The Fire Princess panted and gasped, filling her lungs with as much air as she could. In a voice that was cracked, hoarse, and strained, Ursa rasped out a question to her maids. "What is it?"

Nobody had answered her at first. There was a shuffling of skirts, tapping of feet, and even a few muffled coughs that echoed through the rooms at uncomfortable volumes. None of the younger girls wanted to say anything. Some were trying to keep their sobs quiet. The midwife was busy staring blankly at the bundle of blankets in her arms that was holding the baby that the Lady had worked so hard to produce. It couldn't have been helped. The lady in waiting was the Fire Princess's most trusted servant. If anyone had to tell the poor woman, it would be her.

She stepped forward with her head held high and her eyes shining nothing more than the utmost pity for her mistress. "It is a stillborn, my Lady."

Confusion crossed the woman's features. A dropping feeling washed over her and she felt a new kind of pressure collecting on the back of her eye lids. She blinked and felt the moisture trickle down her cheeks as she croaked out another response.

"Again? A second time?"

The lady in waiting bowed her head and didn't dare look her mistress in the eyes. She clutched her hands tightly and responded as levelly as she could.

"Yes. I'm very sorry."


	2. Two for Joy

**_~+~Two for Joy~+~_**

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"Look how much she's showing!"

The youngest maid serving the Fire Princess—a clever and observant girl of only fifteen—was whispering behind her hand to the Fire Princess's lady in waiting—a young woman of twenty four who had seen her share of misfortune to be wise far beyond her years. They were both in the Fire Princess's quarters, bustling about changing bed sheets, dusting furniture, sweeping floors, folding clothes, and scrubbing windows. The two of them were on the other side of the room, leaving the Fire Princess alone in her sitting room that was attached to her bedroom. She was sitting tiredly but happily in a chair in the corner of the sitting room as she watched her two year old son giggle and play around on the floor in front of her. The two servants saw her eyes twinkle as she laughed and held a hand onto her bloated stomach.

"I think she's doing a lot better," the young maid whispered as she scrubbed another dirt spot off of the windows. "I haven't seen her laugh in ages."

The lady in waiting nodded as she looked back at the Fire Princess and her young son. She sighed as she neatly folded another one of the Fire Princess's dresses and placed them neatly in piles on the bed. She kept her voice to a whisper so that the Fire Princess wouldn't hear their gossip.

"It's been about nine months. The doctors say it should be any day now."

The young girl nodded and whispered rather darkly. "It seems like it."

The lady in waiting picked up on the girl's tone and placed a hand on her shoulder. The young girl looked up, but only for a moment before she turned back to focus her attention on the stubborn spots that she was scraping off of the translucent glass.

The lady in waiting frowned. "What's gotten into you?"

The young maid shook her head and continued to work on the windows. She blinked quickly four or five times—was she holding back tears?—and started pressing against the glass a lot harder than before. The sound of her nails scraping down the glass became louder and louder and the lady in waiting could have sworn that the girl was clenching her teeth.

The older woman sighed. "If you press any harder, your hand is going to crash through the glass."

The younger girl sucked her teeth loudly and threw the rag down on a table across the room. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and started fumbling with the fabric of her dress on the side of her body. She shook her head and let out a shaky breath.

"It's not fair to her. What she's going through, it isn't fair at all."

"What are you talking about?" the lady in waiting asked, putting down the clothes she was folding.

The young maid walked closer to the older woman until they were only two inches apart. She looked up into the older one's eyes and gave her a look that screamed worry and hatred all at the same time. She was always a strange one. Despite her ability to see past anyone and anything, she had a very quick temper. Although she claimed herself that she wasn't one to busy herself with tears and frowns—claiming them to be a waste of energy—there were moments when her grief showed through at unexplainable quantities.

The lady in waiting quickly noticed that this was one of those times.

"I overheard the Fire Prince in the throne room the other day."

The older woman's eyes widened. She dipped her head lower and brought her face level with the young girls and spoke as quietly as she could so that the young maid could still hear her. She grabbed the arms of the girl and pulled her into the corner of the bedroom that was out of the Fire Lady's line of vision. She grabbed the towel that the young girl had thrown just now to trick the Lady into believing that they were simply crossing the room to wash more windows. They huddled close together as the young maid began to speak.

"He was talking to one of his friends I think," the young maid whispered as silent as the wind. "They were talking about the Fire Princess."

The lady in waiting nodded. "Well? What did they say? What did you hear?"

The girl looked away from the woman's gaze. "I couldn't catch all of the words—the doors are pretty thick—but I did catch a little bit of the conversation."

The woman shook her girl slightly so as to prod from her what she had witnessed.

The girl sighed. "He was saying something about how she's beginning to be useless. That he's been doing his duty—he has done it so many times—and gave her three chances to bring heirs into the world. And all she has to show for it is a sickly little boy."

The lady in waiting brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes darted quickly to the wall that was separating her from her mistress and his son.

"The boy's not that sickly," she argued. "Sure he's a little weak and gets sick easily, but I've seen so many children grow out of that over the years."

"Clearly the Fire Prince doesn't think so," the younger girl whispered back. "He says that she had better see this pregnancy through before something needs to be done."

The young girl wrapped her arms around her body again. "And with the Fire Prince, that 'something' could be…"

The lady in waiting nodded. She knew. Everyone knew. The young maid didn't need to elaborate.

"It's just not fair to her," she muttered again. "She hasn't done anything wrong. She's trying her best and he's treating her so poorly. And what I can't grasp is how she has the energy to smile the way she does."

The lady in waiting shook her head and clasped the girls' smaller hands in her own. "You wouldn't understand. You've never felt a child inside of you."

The girl tilted her head to the side and was about to open her mouth to say something. But then her eyes widened and she pulled her hands from the woman's grasp to cover her mouth. Her face showed that she was having trouble forming her words together. She pulled her hands away and bit her lip.

"I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean to…"

The woman held up a hand. "It's fine. I know you didn't mean to bring attention to it."

The woman walked to the right just enough so that she could get a glimpse of the Fire Princess again. She saw her sitting her in her chair still and watching the young Prince Zuko roll around and laugh on the ground in front of her, playing with all of the toys he had gotten as gifts for his second birthday. The lady in waiting smiled as she saw the Fire Princess grin and unconsciously run a hand down her stomach again.

The young maid watched the older servant curiously as she mimicked the Fire Princess's movements, rubbing her own stomach as if she were holding a baby. The girl's heart started to twist in sympathy as she saw silver droplets of tears roll down the woman's cheeks. The lady in waiting's voice came out in a breathy whisper.

"She was devastated both times when she lost her child. Having that happen to you is…" The woman stopped and sighed deeply. "…terrible. But despite that, feeling life inside of you again is able to put such a smile on your face. It makes you forget about everything…and I have no doubt that the Fire Lady is ecstatic at the moment. Nothing her husband can say to her will change that. Her children make her happy."

The girl clutched the older woman's sleeve. "Ming…I-I…"

The lady in waiting shook her head and turned back to the clothes she was folding before. She started whispering again now that the Fire Princess was within ear shot. "Let her be happy. She knows what is happening to her isn't fair. She's a clever woman. But she's allowing herself to indulge in simple pleasures. Let's not take that away from her by reminding her."

The young maid looked at the distraught emotions collecting in the eyes of the Fire Princess's most loyal servant. She then switched her gaze over to the Fire Princess. Her nose was wrinkled—something that the Fire Princess did when she laughed—and her teeth were shining as she smiled the brightest smile while watching her son. But the girl couldn't ignore the hunched back, the limp hair, the skinny limbs, and the sunken in eyes. The girl sighed. Try as they both might to forget about the pain that had haunted their pasts and replace it with happiness, the girl didn't think it was possible.

Ming tried to cover up her grief by busying herself with work in the palace and putting on a happy smile as an example to the rest of the girls. But the young maid knew that she could never truly be happy after losing three children and then hearing the news that she simply wasn't strong enough to carry anymore.

The Fire Princess was the same. Try as she might to fill the sadness with her little boy and her soon-to-be child, the girl picked up on the woman's worried and tired appearance under all those smiles. She picked up on the truly tired and fed up woman underneath. The one that was scared of another still birth. The one that prayed every night for a miracle. The one that was tired of her husband.

The young girl turned her attention back to the windows and began scrubbing them again. Why anyone would want to put up a mask of happiness to hide their true feelings of grief and sadness she didn't have the slightest clue. But maybe Ming was right.

Maybe she was just too young to understand.


	3. Three for a Girl

**_~+~Three for a Girl~+~_**

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Most found it a bit strange and slightly unsettling.

It was almost ironic that the birth of a girl—not a boy—had brought the Fire Prince Ozai back to his senses.

It was scary how he was publicly placing kisses on his wife's head, holding her close, and enjoying their children together. How just the sight of her had him smiling and grinning and showing the warmth and affection that had been missing between the two of them for years. It was as if everything was rekindled. It was as if this was a new beginning for the royal family and that everything would fine.

And it was all because of this one little girl.

It was the Fire Princess's idea to call their first son Zuko. The Fire Prince had granted his wife that privilege when she brought him a boy, despite the fact that the boy was still very weak and overly attached to his mother.

However, the Fire Prince didn't forget the feeling of holding his fourth child—his second living child—his first daughter—in his arms for the very first time.

And that's when things became strange.

He had gotten a feeling. A strong and overwhelming feeling when he held the girl. It was something he hadn't felt with Zuko and it was something that he greatly admired. Most of his friends thought that he was making it up or that he was simply crazy. But the Fire Prince felt it.

Power. Authority. Precision. Skill. Tactfulness.

All together…the son he had always wanted wrapped up in a package that resembled a little girl.

He often found himself looking at the young Prince. Always clutching his mother's side, sneezing due to the cold that he never seemed to rid himself of, his small face, his bright smile, and his kind heart.

He was a boy that would grow up honest, caring, and willing to help. And despite how happy he was that he could brag about having a son, he knew that this little boy could not and would not be ruler of the world one day once this blasted war was finally won by the Fire Nation once and for all.

But the girl—his wonderful little girl—showed promise from a young age. He saw the glint in her eyes when she was up to something devious. He heard her snide remarks to her servants, her sarcastic nature toward her older brother, and her desire for attention and control. The hatred of coming last, the pride of being first, knowing everything about anything, the obsession with progress, and even the cruel and sadistic smirk.

All of this from such a little girl.

She showed such promise it was frightening.

By the time the girl was seven years old, she had already earned the title of his favorite child.

He had often found himself sneaking out of his quarters and slipping in to see his daughter asleep in her small bedroom. It was as if he needed the comfort of seeing her alive and real before him. He admired the little girl and all of her qualities that much.

His thoughts ran back to his father—the Fire Lord Azulon. He remembered what his childhood was like. Being the less favored, being the extra space, being the second child. It confused him at a young age why he was treated so poorly. He was just as good a Fire Bender as his older brother—perhaps an even better one. He excelled in his studied and barely needed his tutors' help for anything. He was independent, strong, willing, and capable.

And yet he was never anything more than the "second child."

But he was not his father. He would not let his second child be shrouded in the shadow of the first born. Her skills would not be wasted. She would not be ignored. She will rise to greatness—a greatness that will exceed that of her older brother. He would personally make sure of it.

And he would make sure his father saw it as well.

"You'll see," he whispered to her one night while she was sleeping. "You'll accomplish great things. You will be the pride of this family…

"…_Azula._"


	4. Four for a Boy

**_~+~Four for a Boy~+~_**

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It wasn't fair.

As always, it was the second child receiving the brunt of the punishment. It was always the second child who was looked down upon. It was _always_ the second child!

_"You dare suggest that I betray Iroh? My first born? Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough. But you…your punishment has scarcely begun."_

Ozai smashed a fist into the wall in front of him.

It _wasn't fair!_

How dare his father even suggest that his fool of an older brother deserved the throne over him. His brother shamed himself at Ba Sing Se. He was a weak dolt who couldn't even take over the Earth Kingdom stronghold when he had the most powerful weapons, machinery, and military men in the world at his disposal. And then he goes and holds his head in grief after the death of his only son. How can a man without an heir and without a backbone take over the nation?

Why _him_?

This was just what he hated. Every time his father came this close to praising him—heaven forbid maybe even nodding his head in approval of him—something always came up that constituted him being treated like absolute trash.

The Fire Prince remembered the day when he was showing Azula to his father. The absolute beauty of her Firebending was overwhelming for him. The amount of precision and accuracy she held at the ripe age of eight years old was simply frightening—and at the same time is was highly satisfying.

He had gone through such lengths to bring Azula up with the best education of politics, military tactics, and Fire Nation history. The fact that the girl just happened to be remarkable in her Firebending was a huge plus. All in all, he was breeding her to be a ruler. A feared ruler. His heir. And he would be sure to rub it in his father's face that he had actually done something right for a change.

He saw the achingly small smile cross his father's features as he watched his granddaughter perform impeccably in her training. She was a prodigy. Everyone in the room saw it. And he thought that for a second his father was actually—surprisingly—proud of him.

If only Zuko hadn't gone up there and made a fool of himself two seconds after.

Putting his embarrassment of a son beside, Ozai had an heir at his side. A capable heir at that. An heir that Azulon appeared to approve of. And what did Iroh have to show off? A dead son and a military embarrassment.

So someone needed to explain to him—and _fast_—why Iroh was given the privilege to be Fire Lord and Ozai was stuck with his punishment.

Killing his first born child.

"You can't do this," Fire Princess Ursa cried. "I see how you've been looking at him lately…you're thinking about it aren't you?"

Ozai turned quickly to his wife and pinned her own with a gaze that was made out of pure red, hot fire. "Then explain to me what other alternative I have if you're so against this. This is my father. The Fire Lord. Do you know what would happen to me if I disobeyed him? Do you know the shame that would befall me—this _family_—should I not carry through with this?"

The Lady Ursa was struggling with the tears that were preventing her from speaking clearly. "He's just a small boy!"

"A useless one if you ask me," the Fire Prince spat out cruelly. "He can't even handle the simplest of Firebending routines. He's slow in his studies, he's constantly clinging to you instead of trying to do better. If you ask me he's nothing but an embarrassment."

"He's doing just fine!" the Fire Princess shouted out. "Just because he isn't up to par with your daughter and your standards doesn't mean he's incapable."

Ozai snarled as he brought his fist down against the wall of his quarters again, this time causing the wood underneath his fist to visibly crack. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, visibly trying to find another solution to the problem.

Evidently there was none. None that he could see anyway.

His wife was being nothing more than a nuisance.

"Listen to me," the Fire Prince ground out carefully. "There is nothing we can do. This is the way it has to be."

The Fire Princess leaned against the wall in order to look her husband in the face. She glared at him through her tears. "So you're just going to give up on our son? All of us have to suffer due to your mistake?"

That did it.

Ozai growled loudly and slammed both of his hands on the wall in front of him, effectively boxing his wife in with his arms. He swore to Agni that he had almost struck his wife. And somehow the idea of shutting her up—of showing his authority—of showing somebody that he _was_ strong and capable—seemed terribly satisfying. Maybe a large bruise on the woman's face would show her to stop questioning those with more power that she and to just take life how it came to her.

It might have been terribly unfair. But that was all anyone could do in this world. You just had to take the cuts and burns as they came. Even he didn't question it, which was why he was going through with this in the first place.

His wife was the only one that didn't seem to get the hint.

"Listen to me," Ursa whispered, trembling under the sadistic gaze of the man she loved. "I'll do anything. Anything to save him. We can't let this happen. I won't allow it."

Look at her.

_Begging._

He seemed to know where his son got his pathetic nature from. He mused slightly at her desperation. He almost laughed at the fact that she was actually begging to do _anything_ to save their weak son. Sometimes, he failed to understand her logic and he also failed to understand her drive. In fact, he didn't understand her at all. Lately, it just seemed that the momentary love that seemed to be there at their wedding day all but disappeared. And it was things like this—defiance towards those more powerful than she—that seemed to further prove the disgust he felt for this woman as of late.

The only reason he showed her any affection was because she gave him the best daughter a man could ask for.

Honestly, at this point he was fed up of her meddling and of her complaints. He would do anything just to keep her quiet and have her sit on the side lines like a good little wife and let him deal with the drama that revolved around him and his father.

"Fine," he spat out. He started at his wife long and hard as he tapped a calloused finger against the damaged wood behind him. "Since you're so set on this…what do you propose we do?"


	5. Five for Silver

**_~+~Five for Silver~+~_**

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She was miserably going through the things she would never be able to do.

She wouldn't be able to go tour the Earth Kingdom like she had always wanted to.

She would never get to see "_Love Among the Dragons"_ at Ember Island anymore.

That quilt she was working on would never be finished.

The book she had started would forever have a bookmark halfway through the pages.

Her mother's funeral was in a few days. She clearly would not be going.

Her lovely maids—the ones that were with her through the most troubling times—would be gone.

She could never sleep in her familiar bed in the palace.

She could no longer sit and daydream in front of her favorite Koi Pond in the gardens.

Her rose garden would most likely die without her there to tend to the flowers.

She'll never see her third living child—nor the fourth—nor the fifth.

She would never be Fire Lady.

She'll never her see her daughter again.

She'll never see her son again.

She nodded. Yes. This was all true. But she had prepared for this.

She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't scream, she wouldn't wallow, she wouldn't collapse…

She would remain stoic in her nature and staunch in her decision. Because she finally realized that maybe—just maybe—she would finally be of some use after all of these years of suffering in this damned palace. As much as she attempted to show that everything would be alright, she knew this was a lie.

Things were destined to go downhill the moment she burned her first dead baby.

All she had left at the moment was to mull over what she had done.

It was funny how this—of all things—was all she was useful for.

It was funny how she hadn't even known where this idea of hers came from.

It was funny how the blood all over the floors matched the décor perfectly.

It was funny that the stab wounds matched the number of years she was married.

And it was downright _hilarious_ how easy it was to overpower a man that was said to be the greatest ruler the Fire Nation had ever seen.

Overpowered by a mere woman at that.

She couldn't help but chuckle—just a little bit. Why? Well she didn't know. Maybe she was becoming unhinged. Maybe all those loose strands that were poking out of her sanity for all of these years were finally unraveling. Maybe she just didn't care anymore. The end was near. Why _not_ laugh? She damn well deserved it. Being suppressed by everyone here…and finally saving one of the only people she ever truly cared about in this prison…she had the God-given-_right_ to indulge just a little bit.

_It's getting late. I'd better leave. _

She stared on and on at her work until she noticed something.

The blade. The star of this plan of hers. The knife she had stolen from the kitchens. The knife that had dragons carved into the handle. The knife that was only six inches long.

She winced.

What a _horrid_ color of silver it was.


	6. Six for Gold

**_~+~Six for Gold~+~_**

* * *

"He isn't going to tell you."

Azula was curled up in the arm chair that was shoved into the corner of her big brother's room. In her lap was an old, yellowing, and large scroll. She was holding the parchment in her left hand and was fingering the old, leather string that held the scroll closed with her right. It was an old Fire Nation War Manual that her father had asked her to read, saying that it would be good for her to get first hand advice and accounts from an actual general. She pulled on the parchment so that the scroll unraveled a few more feet, allowed the portions that she had already read fall onto the floor, and continued to read on.

"How do you know?" Zuko asked, responding to his sister's statement. "He has to tell me sometime."

Azula rolled her eyes but didn't avert her eyes from the document. "Look. He hasn't even told _me_ what happened. That's already a sure-fire sign that he isn't going to tell you."

Zuko groaned and fell back on his bed, looking up at the polished wood of his canopy bed. He kicked off his boots and let them fall onto the floor so that he could lay out more comfortable on top of his bed.

"I can't wait for your room to be finished," Zuko complained. "It feels like they've been renovating it for years."

"It's only been a week," Azula responded shortly. "Stop complaining."

"A week, a month, a year, it doesn't matter," Zuko insisted. "I don't like you sleeping in my room."

Azula wasn't offended. If anything, she simply chuckled and pulled more of the parchment out of the scroll. "Why? Is sleeping in the same bed as your darling little sister really that terrible?"

Zuko shrugged and continued to stare up at the top of the bed. "Well, it wouldn't be if my sister was sweet, nice, innocent, and kind. But since you aren't, I have wonder whether I'm to wake up in the morning or not."

Azula ignored him. She yawned and noticed that the candle she had lit when she first started reading was already going out, signaling that it must have been very late. She rolled up the rest of the scroll and tightly fastened the leather strap that bound the scroll together. She pushed it onto the table nearby the arm chair she was curled in and stood up on her feet.

"Stop asking father," she said sternly, stopping down in front of an old, oak trunk that held all of her belongings while her room was being expanded. She shifted through her clothing until she found her nightgown. "If you keep at it, you're just going to annoy him."

"I'll keep asking until I get an answer," Zuko said sternly, getting up from his bed and escaping into his closet to get ready for bed as well. "I think I…we…have a right to know."

Azula shook her head and disappeared into Zuko's closet to change once he exited. "You don't get it, do you?" she called out. "We _don't_ have the right to know. That's why he's not telling us anything. And it's going to stay like that no matter how many times you ask. Just let it go."

Zuko slipped out of his day clothes and put on his sleeping robe. He walked over to the bed and started roughly turning down the sheets. "I'm not giving up."

Azula slammed the closet door shut and came out in a long nightgown. "See, that's your problem, Zuzu. You act so spoiled."

Zuko let out a loud laugh as he laid down under the covers. "Look who's talking!"

"No. I'm obedient. I'm not spoiled. I do what I'm told and that's it," Azula spat out. "You on the other hand don't know how to keep your stupid mouth shut! It's going to bite you in the rear when you get older and when that happens I'm just going to smile and laugh."

"How can you say all that? Aren't you just a bit curious? Don't you want to know? Don't you think we should?"

"Shut it Zuko!"

"You're upset. This is the one thing even you're not allowed to know. You're just as confused as I am. You're angry aren't you? Aren't you?"

Azula stomped over to the side of the bed and grabbed Zuko's robe and pulled him to her. She was strong, so she nearly pulled him off of the side of the bed. She pulled him far enough so that their noses were only two inches apart and so that they could each feel the other's exhales on their faces. She growled and pulled him off the bed completely and let him fall down on the cold floor. Zuko groaned and got up from the hard floor, rubbing the shoulder that he had fallen on, but Azula didn't waste any time in shoving him away from her. She didn't know what had gotten into her, but she just kept pressing her hands to his chest and shoving him further across the room. Zuko's back collided with the wall and Azula brought her face close to her brother's again.

She looked up into his eyes. They were filled with confusion, apprehension, and even a little bit of fear. But that's not what upset her. It was the color of his eyes that upset her.

Those golden eyes that had belonged to their mother.

"You know what you're right," Azula spoke quietly. "I do want to know. I want to know who killed our Grandfather. I want to know how our father became Fire Lord when our Grandfather clearly said that Iroh would be next to the throne. I want to know what happened to mother. I want to know why everybody is pretending that they don't know what happened. And what I really want to know is why she came to visit you before she left and why she didn't bother to say goodbye to me!"

Zuko's eyes widened and he let out the breath he was holding during her entire rant. "What?"

"You said it yourself," Azula explained. "Mother came to say goodbye to you, walked out of your room, and then no one ever saw her again." She cursed at herself. She could feel the hot tears pooling at the back of her eyes and she would give anything to just let them go. But she wouldn't cry. Especially not in front of Zuko.

"Why you?" she asked. "Why were you so important? Why did she go through all of the trouble just for you? Why are you so _special_?"

Zuko didn't respond.

"And you know what? I am angry. I'm _seething_! I hate you, Zuko. I hate you, and I hate our mother. I'm glad she's finally gone!"

With that she grabbed the scroll she was reading and a thin blanket and stormed out of her brother's bedroom. She would go sleep in her father's den. She could handle a little bit of discomfort if only for tonight. She was not going to sleep in the same bed as Zuko. He was right. She might just kill him.

Her brother was too stupid to put two and two together, but Azula knew better. She had overheard Azulon telling their father that he would have to sacrifice his first born son. And her father didn't seem to be protesting about it too much. Yet the next day, Zuko is alive, her Grandfather is dead, and her mother was gone.

Clearly, her mother did something. Something to get Azulon off the throne. Something to get her husband—Azula's father—on the throne. She did something to save Zuko. Something that justified her leaving the palace forever.

And when she knew she was leaving forever, she only gave a final goodbye to her son.

And not her daughter.

It bothered her. It had been bothering her ever since she was small enough to talk. She had just never lost her composure about it in front of anyone else before. But it had always been apparent.

Her mother seemed to be so attached to Zuko…and she treated Azula like she was…

…a _monster_.


	7. Seven for a Secret, Never to be Told

**_~+~Seven for a Secret, Never to be Told~+~_**

* * *

"Come on. Let me see it."

"Leave me alone already!"

"Relax. I just want to see it."

"Why? Does it even matter?"

"Just let me look at it. You have to change the bandage anyway. It's getting old."

Zuko sighed. He almost didn't want to take the bandage off. His left eye was still swollen shut and he could feel the entire area throbbing. He could barely hear out of his left ear and there were still small shocks of pain thrumming through the entire area. Every time he removed the bandage to change it for a new one, the cold air that hit it would make the pain ten times worse. He wished that he could just keep it covered forever so that he wouldn't have to feel the pain, and more importantly so that no one would have to see the burn.

But his Uncle, who had recently come to stay at the Fire Palace, insisted that he needed to let it heal properly. So he would always have to stare at the ugly burn that covered half of his face every time he had to apply more medicine and wrap it up in more white gauze. He had always done it himself…

…until Azula had strangely offered to change it for him this morning.

He winced as his sister carefully peeled the bandages away from his eye and off of his ear. This was the most gentle she had ever been with him surprisingly. She was biting her lip in concentration as if she was being extra careful not to rip the bandage off too fast for fear that she might hurt him. He wasn't sure. After all, this _was_ Azula. But somehow, just pretending that she might have cared just a little bit, strangely made him feel relieved.

Azula breathed in sharply. "It's going to scar," she said emotionlessly.

Zuko nodded. "I know. Uncle said it wouldn't look too bad as long as I took care of it."

Azula shook her head. She reached behind her and took a bottle of medicine along with a rag. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to the rag and tipped it over. "I don't know, Zuko. It looks pretty bad. The scar it's going to leave behind isn't going to be a nice one."

She pressed the rag to his eye. He felt the medicine seeping into the charred and damaged skin, causing him to flinch and hiss in pain. Azula made no effort to apologize and didn't even flinch when he told her that she was putting on too much of the medicine at once. She just kept tipping the bottle over and applying more medication.

"Stop complaining," she scolded. "Do you want it to heal or not?"

"You're putting on way too much," he gritted out.

"Shut up."

Azula finally closed the bottle and started putting on a blend of herbs that the doctors at the palace said would help the burn heal faster. She dipped her finger in the small bottle that contained the herbs and started spreading a thin layer on the damaged tissue.

"How could you be this stupid, Zuzu? Honestly. We learned this when we were two. Speak only when spoken to. Are you some kind of an idiot?"

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I did the right thing. Our father was about to sacrifice inexperienced soldiers. I'm glad I spoke up."

"Yeah. You did speak up. And look what came of it. You wound up not saving those soldiers at all, father hates you even more now, and you've got a scar the size of my hand across your face." She chuckled cruelly. "You sure showed them."

Zuko got up from the chair he was sitting in and grabbed the bandages next to his sister. "Forget it. If you're going to start running your mouth in front of me, then just leave. I'll do it myself."

He walked over to the large mirror in the room and looked at himself in the mirror. He slowly started to wrap the bandages around his face when he saw Azula show up in the mirror next to him.

"Why are you so bitter about this?" she asked. "I warned you didn't I? You were disobedient and you paid for it. You got what you deserved."

"I don't need your damn input," he shot back.

"Why? I'm only telling the truth. If anything you should be taking notes. You don't see me getting half my face melted off."

Zuko scowled. "Of course not. You're so damn perfect that nothing like this would ever happen, right?"

"It's not that I'm perfect. I know how to listen and obey. I feel like I've told you this so many times Zuko. Why can't you just seem to get it? Huh?" Her voice was getting so annoying. He just wanted her to leave. He was suffering just fine on his own, and he didn't need his bratty little sister reminding him of how much of a screw he was. Right now, he didn't need it.

"Stop it. Get out."

Azula rolled her eyes and stared at Zuko through the mirror. "It's true. That's how the world works. You do something wrong and you pay for it. Haven't you noticed that seems to be a theme with this family?"

Zuko finished wrapping the bandage around his left ear. He frowned and turned his face away from her. "Don't start bringing this up again."

Azula smiled and began again anyway. "It's obvious that mother did something terrible. So terrible that no one even knows, and if they do know they won't mention it. That's why she's gone. You speak out of turn at a war meeting and get burned…literally. Now you're going to have that scar as a permanent reminder. And then our dear father dared question the authority of Grandfather and was asked to kill his—"

_SMASH!_

Blood trickled on the floor, drip by drip. It mixed with the broken glass of the mirror that Zuko has just crashed his hand through. His nails were digging into the wooden back of the mirror, leaving light colored, moon shaped marks in the surface. He turned away from his sister and walked back to the table, finding bandaged to wrap his now injured right hand.

As he cradled the blood stained hand in his uninjured one, he looked to the left and saw all of the trunks and cases that held all of his belongings. There was now nothing in his closet, nothing in the drawers, nothing on the beds, nothing hanging in the walls, and nothing on the floors. All that was left of the room was the bed and table. Everything else was either removed or placed in a box. It was almost painful to look at. Knowing that all of these trunks symbolized his fate…a fate that was probably the most disgraceful punishment anyone in the Fire Nation could think it, especially due to the fact that it was the Fire Prince accepting this punishment.

He felt like screaming. Screaming out to someone to explain how everything went wrong. What happened? Why? How? For how long will this last?

He half wished that Azula would just get the hint and leave. But of course she simply followed him to the other end of the room. She leaned against the bedpost of the bed directly across from the table he was standing in front of. She crossed her arms and stared at him curiously.

"You're leaving tomorrow, right?" Azula asked him.

He nodded.

She looked down and tapped her fingers against her elbow. "You know you're not going to find him. Our Great Grandfather Sozin spent years searching for the Avatar. So has our Grandfather. They were military geniuses. They've brought the Fire Nation power and prestige. They were heroes. If they didn't find the Airbender what in the world makes you think that you will?"

Zuko drowned out the sound of Azula's tapping and focused on the scar again. It was still throbbing. He was replaying the look of his father's face before the flame came. The disgust, the hatred, the coldness, and the disappointment. He had never seen his father look at anyone like that except for him. He couldn't stand the sight of his very own son and didn't even flinch when he decided to teach his son a permanent lesson…on his face.

It amazed him how Azula was able to make his father smile in pride, yet all he could hope for was that his father would even spit in his direction. And what made no sense to him was why. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was speaking up for what he believed him. Even from then to now, he'd been nothing but the good son he was supposed to be. He did what he was supposed to do. He trained, he studied, and he never tried to stray from his expectations.

Yet that never seemed to please his father.

He hated him from the day he was born.

Useless. Embarrassing. _Disgraceful_.

_"If they didn't find the Airbender what in the world makes you think that you will?"_

Because if he did…

…maybe his father would look at him like a father should look at his son.


	8. Eight for a Wish

**_~+~Eight for a Wish~+~_**

* * *

For a moment, it was almost painful to watch.

They were making such a show out of it. Everyone was here to watch. Even the commoners were invited to see. Sure he deserved it. But still, she could barely imagine how it must have felt for him.

A long, red carpet was unrolled down the entire Royal Plaza. The red strip went on for a few hundred meters until it ended at the end of the harbor, where one lone ship was docked. The Fire Nation flag perched on top of the ship was so small—so insignificant—that it didn't seem as if this was a Fire Nation ship. It was so small, so miserable looking, so dark, so run down, and so embarrassing.

It was the perfect ship to be given to the Banished Prince.

Azula stood behind her father with all of the Fire Sages and Advisors flanking her. She wasn't directly behind her father thankfully, so if she tilted her head to the left just slightly, she could see what was happening. There was Zuko kneeling down in front of his father, that terrible bandage still wrapped around his eye. He was dressed in his best set of clothes, his forehead was touching the ground, and his eyes were set downward. When their father had asked him to rise, he stood tall with his back straight, his eyes steadily gazing at his father's, and his arms down at his sides.

Azula smiled sadly. He was being dutiful. He was leaving this nation with as much dignity as he could manage by showing as much respect and as much civility as possible. He wasn't arguing. He wasn't fighting. He was taking his banishment with as much of his pride intact as possible. He had finally listened to her.

Too bad it was far too late now.

This had always been her nightmare. She could never imagine herself going through this. The silence was probably what was worse. It was custom that everyone was invited and that no one spoke a single word. There were no goodbyes. There was just deafening silence and absolute shame. At least their mother left in secret. Having everyone staring at you and saying absolutely nothing…this was what he would leave with. And there was no telling how long he would be gone.

Azula watched as her brother turned on his heel, and began to walk down that long, seemingly endless, red aisle. At the end of it was the lone ship with a very small crew of Fire Nation men, one of those men being their Uncle as he refused to let the Fire Prince bear this shame alone.

Although she knew that this must have been excruciating for him, she couldn't help but feel that Zuko deserved it. He had always been defiant. She supposed that it was in his nature. He also had a big heart, something that really got in the way when it came to being a successful and ruthless leader. She remembered how Zuko had gotten down on his knees, tears running down his cheeks, as he begged for his father's forgiveness. He had outright refused to fight his own father in that Agni Kai, holding on to that small hope that maybe his father would spare him the punishment he should have been given.

Evidently, he didn't.

Instead he gave his son a mission. He could return to his beloved home land so long as he could capture the Avatar.

Azula knew how cruel this was. The Avatar had all but disappeared. He was gone. Vanished. People had searched for him for years and no one had found him. Azula knew that he would forever be searching for the Avatar and that he would never find him. It was the cruelest false hope their father could have given him. But strangely, Zuko seemed to be grateful for it. Maybe that was why he was walking so determinedly towards that sad ship. Maybe he really did think that he would find the Avatar. Maybe he really did think that he would return home again as a proud Prince.

Maybe he really did hope that he could be accepted by his father with open arms.

Azula shook her head. Zuko was so pathetic. Holding on to this idea that he would find the Avatar would only serve to disappoint him.

But she stood silent like everyone else. She watched her brother as he walked down the aisle towards the ship. She watched as he boarded and as he called orders to the crew. As soon as the ship left the harbor, the crowd had dispersed. But Azula kept watching. She watched until that small ship disappeared behind the horizon and was completely out of sight. And even after that, she didn't move.

Some might have found it cruel that Azula was smiling like an idiot and even chuckling just a little bit after everyone was gone. Maybe she should have pitied her brother. Maybe she should have gone with him. Maybe she should have given him a proper goodbye. Maybe she should have acted like a true sister.

But she didn't. Azula was raised to be merciless and to recognize faults when they came her way. She was bred to show no compassion for those who were enemies and traitors. And Zuko was nothing but an enemy and a traitor. He had no respect, no sense of authority, and no potential to be the ruthless symbol of the Fire Nation that he needed to be. He was a failure. And her father had trained her to look down at failure.

So she would show no compassion, no pity, and no affection for her banished brother.

She would not be weak.

She would not be pathetic.

She would not be Zuko.


	9. Nine for a Kiss

**_~+~Nine for a Kiss~+~_**

* * *

It was a moment in their childhood. It wasn't an event. It wasn't an entire day. It was just a small moment. A moment that most wouldn't even bother to remember. But somehow, both of them seemed to have remembered it, and their thoughts always seemed to travel back to that distant memory.

Azula was six. Zuko was eight.

The Royal Family was taking a small stroll through the Capital. It was a nice day in the Spring and the weather was particularly suitable. Of course it wasn't a traditional stroll. They were being carried by palanquins, there was a procession of guards all around them, and they were really only going out so that Ozai—who was still Fire Prince at the time—could visit a noble on the other side of the Capital so that he could send a message in place of his father. But nevertheless, it was a long trip and the children enjoyed it as a nice day outside.

Both children had a habit of peeking out of the palanquin, even though they technically weren't allowed. They would part the curtain only slightly so that Zuko could peek out from the bottom of the crack, and Azula could peek out from the top. They found what they saw in the town fascinating. The merchants coaxing reluctant citizens to their table of wares, children running around with toys, some people showing off mediocre Firebending, women walking with baskets of items on their heads, and even couples who were walking in and out of stores, parks, and alleys.

Azula noticed it first. She had tilted her head at the sight and had poked Zuko when she saw it. She turned his head to the left so that he was looking directly at it. When his eyes locked on the sight, he too tilted his head in thought.

It was a mother, a father, and their young daughter. The little girl was on the floor, holding on to her arm which had a small scratch along the forearm. The mother started wiping away the child's tears while the father bent down and began placing small kisses on the scrape. He kept telling his daughter that he would kiss it and make it better. And even though the two children in the palanquin knew that the father's kisses were doing absolutely nothing in terms of healing the scrape, the child's sobs had ceased and a smile was plastered brightly on the child's small, round face.

It was so useless and seemingly meaningless. But at the same time, it was strangely fascinating.

The children could attest to the fact that their father would never, ever do something like place kisses on their scrapes and burns. Even their mother, despite her kind, motherly, and warm hearted nature, never did anything like that. If they ever got hurt, all the parents would do was send their children to the doctors in the palace and patch them up. There was never a need to kiss the pain away because the doctors could always take care of the injury without hesitation. So kissing wounds was never anything that the children had experienced, and at first it seemed so strange that they didn't initially think anything of it back then.

But Zuko remembered that moment when his father told him that he was lucky to have been born.

Azula remembered that moment when she heard her mother mutter under her breath how strange and disturbed her daughter was.

Zuko recalled that moment when his father would praise his sister and leave him alone on the sidelines.

Azula recalled the moment when her mother smacked her across the face for making fun of her brother.

Zuko remembered it when his father had burned him during an Agni Kai.

Azula remembered it when her mother told her that she was a selfish and cruel little girl.

It was at those times that the two siblings remembered the little girl getting her wounds kissed away. And it was at those times that they realized they were pretty much like orphans. They were orphans who were left in the street to tend to their bleeding wounds and injuries all by themselves. They were orphans who had no family to take away the pain. If anything, their family was the source of it.

And when one grows up bearing the pains of their life without anyone to remedy them, they inflict that pain tenfold upon their future generations.

And that pain…well…

…it has a habit of changing people over time.


	10. Ten for a Bird You Must Not Miss

**_~+~Ten for a Bird You Must Not Miss~+~_**

* * *

The Eastern Wing of the Fire Nation palace had become somewhat of a crypt.

It used to contain the Fire Prince's and the Fire Princess's bedrooms, studies, sitting rooms, and dens. Any other empty rooms on this side of the palace belonged to them. The Western Wing was reserved for the Fire Lord and the Fire Lady.

But Zuko clearly would not be using those rooms anymore. Azula claimed that she felt lonely being in that side of the palace all by herself. So she was moved into her mother's old quarters on the Western side of the palace, leaving the old Eastern Wing completely barren as if it was just an old and fetid memory.

None of the maids had asked why the Princess had moved quarters. Very few of them believed that Azula had insisted so strongly that she be moved to the other side of the palace due to loneliness. But, they didn't dare ask the Princess for fear that they would be severely punished. Those brave few who did stutter out the question either received an intense verbal lashing or complete silence. Other than that, she also didn't socialize much with anybody save her father. And even those interactions were meant only to gauge her progress in her studies and in her Firebending. What was even more saddening was that Azula didn't seem to mind it. It was all she knew and she had been bred to go through life like this ever since she was a young girl. If Azula resented the privileged yet relentless training she had been given for the past few years, the Princess didn't show it.

So because Ozai wouldn't have gone to that side of the palace anyway and because Azula dutifully abandoned it, the Royal children's childhood stayed in the old wing to rot and disappear into nothing.

One of the maids walked reluctantly through this abandoned half of the castle. Every month, the old rooms would be dusted and cleaned for maintenance purposes, and none of the maids had enjoyed doing it. There were so many rooms, pieces of furniture, and windows that needed dusting and cleaning that it would require an entire day's time just to clean the Eastern Wing to satisfaction. Of course, the maid just happened to draw the shortest straw that day and was stuck with the laborious job.

It was close to sundown and the maid was almost done cleaning. Just one room left at the end of the hallway and she would be free for the night. Then she could bathe, retire into her room, and curl up for the rest of the night and relax her tired muscles.

The large double doors with the brass door handles led to the final room. The maid quickly pulled out a rag and some polish and made sure to rub out the dull sheen of the door knobs and make them shine as if they were only just fashioned yesterday. She used a different rag to grab onto the handles of the door and pull them open.

It was the children's sitting room.

The whole place was sad. The shutters to the windows were closed tight, the curtains were drawn, and the chairs and couches were pushed flush against the walls along with the wooden furniture. The wood floor was damaged and dull seeing as how it hadn't been tended to in an entire month, and the cobwebs hanging in the corners made the room look even more abandoned and devastating.

To think that fourteen years ago, she was a fifteen year old girl who tended to Fire Princess Ursa during the happier times of her life. She was scrubbing the windows in her bedroom, folding her clothes, dusting her rooms, bringing her tea, and acting as one of her companions when it seemed as though she had none. It had all seemed so long ago.

In particular, the bright, happy, and smiling faces of Prince Zuko and Princess Azula stuck in her mind.

She knew the children ever since they were very young. They were the sweetest little things she had ever seen. They had round faces, bright smiles, sparkling eyes, and exuberant laughter. She even remembered them at a very young age sharing their toys and playing together in this very sitting room. They snuck away from their parents and from the maids and servants to various places in the palace to hide and play games in secret. Zuko would always declare that he would protect his younger sister and Azula would always say how much she adored her older brother.

But over the years, the laughter turned to yelling and the yelling turned to cursing. They saw less and less of each other until they did their best to avoid the other. The mother favored the son and the father favored the daughter. An animosity grew between the two siblings over the years seemingly out of nowhere. Now the Prince was banished, and the Princess had turned into a cruel and vindictive young prodigy that showed absolutely no remorse for her exiled brother.

The woman sighed. Perhaps she was the only one that noticed, or maybe she was the only one that cared. But the maid desperately wanted to know what had happened. How did such sweet children turn into such dark and pained shadows of their former selves?

It could have been so many things. The favoritism and neglect. The disappearance of their mother. The death of their grandfather. The ruthless parenting of the Fire Lord. The competition between the two siblings. The Prince's punishment and banishment. There were so many flaws and cracks in the lives of the two children that it was difficult to pinpoint when and how they had changes so drastically and how they grew so apart.

She pitied them. She knew in her heart that Azula was not as devious and cold hearted as she seemed. She also knew that Zuko wasn't as bitter and as hateful as he seemed after the dreaded fight with his father. She had proof of their happiness and of their love for their family. But apparently, the Royal Family had a habit of turning into the morphed and disfigured versions of themselves over the years. She had spoken with the old maids in the palace. There was a time when Azulon hugged his two sons every day and sat in to watch them show off their Firebending skills during training. There had been a time when Iroh and Ozai were inseparable brothers who did everything together. There had been a time when Ursa and her husband were deeply in love. Yet they had all fallen to the curse that seemed to befall the Fire Nation Royals. They had all become so different and so changed…no one recognized them anymore.

The maid almost wished that the Prince and the Princess would break this terrible cycle, and that they wouldn't fall victim to this terrible fate. But this in front of her was what was left: a dark, dusty, and dirty sitting room that no one dared look at anymore. It was lost, forgotten, and invisible. And try as she might to clean it and fix it so that it would look beautifully cleaned and polished, there was no hiding the fact that life would never truly come back to this part of the palace. It was dead. It had been for a while, and it would in all likelihood stay this way.

The maid dragged a rag along one of the pieces of furniture, erasing the thick dust that coated the surface. She wouldn't lose hope, not yet. She would hold on and not let go to the small chance that maybe this cycle would be severed. Maybe it wasn't too late for the two children. Maybe they could still reshape themselves into the people they were meant to be and not into the people that life had morphed them into.

But until then, this crypt would remain, and it would house the broken pieces of the Royal Family while the marred remainders struggled through life alone.

Until then, their despair will rule over them all.

* * *

**_They will count the days until the pain is numb and gone._**


End file.
